


the centre cannot hold

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Bones
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unconventional Formatting, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's ironic that it's only now, when she's threatened with the loss of Booth's partnership (friendship, companionship, love), that she begins to think with her heart.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the centre cannot hold

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue has been taken directly from several episodes, including "The Boneless Bride in the River" and "The Widow's Son in the Windshield." The poem referenced is "The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats.

He tells her the news over breakfast. There's a bite of waffle halfway to his mouth when he says, "I've been transferred," and she feels her heart thump painfully in her chest.

"Where?" she asks after nearly two minutes of _(agonizing)_ silence. His waffle is almost gone; she's done nothing but stare at her coffee since his announcement.

She can feel his eyes boring into the top of her skull, but she can't make herself meet his eyes. Her eyes start to burn from the effort of trying to hold back tears; the formica tabletop is cool beneath her palms.

"St. Louis."

 

**

 

_" Everything happens eventually."_

"Everything?"

"All the stuff, okay, that you think never happens – it happens. You just gotta be ready for it."

 

**

 

She's always hated stories that start with _Once upon a time_ because they invariably end with _Happily ever after_ and she knows that happily ever after doesn't actually exist. She's seen too much _(lived too much)_ to let herself believe.

She wants to believe. It almost hurts how much she wants to believe.

Booth does believe and that's what hurts the most.

 

**

 

When Sully left her with hardly a backwards glance, she was _thisclose_ to breaking down right there on the dock but then Booth was there _(always there)_ and she couldn't let herself be weak in front of him _(not again, never again)_.

She blinked back her tears _(she's almost too good at this)_ and let herself be cheered by his optimistic flirting. She could almost believe what he was telling her.

Later that night, her dreams were filled with sun and surf and Sully.

 

**

 

_"We solid?"_

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Because, you and me -- the center"

"And the center must hold."

"Right. So, are we gonna hold?"

"Yeah. We'll hold. We're the center."

"The center."

 

**

 

"Why?" she asks, her eyes still glued to her coffee cup. She can't _(won't)_ look up, can't _(won't)_ meet his eyes right now.

She sees his hand twitch in her periphery, knows he wants to reach out to her. She's glad he doesn't try. Not now.

"I've turned down too many promotions in order to stay your partner," he says, his fingers tapping _(annoyingly)_ against the tabletop. "I had no choice this time."

"There's always a choice."

She hadn't meant for it to come out as accusatory as it had, but she can't take it back now _(doesn't even want to take it back now)_. She finally meets his eyes.

 

**

 

Once upon a time, a beautiful princess lived in a magnificent castle with her parents, the King and Queen, and her older brother, the valiant prince. The prince looked after the princess in all her dealings, making sure that she always knew she was loved. The King and Queen spoiled the princess, giving her the best life they possibly could.

All was wonderful throughout the land until one day the King and Queen disappeared, leaving the prince and princess all alone in their castle. The prince left soon after and the princess was forced to leave her beautiful castle behind.

The princess was eventually reunited with the prince and the King, but was too hurt by their actions to let herself fully forgive them.

_(She gave up on happily ever after the day her parents disappeared.)_

 

**

 

"Bones…" It's barely an exhalation, hardly noticeable as a word. How can she have never noticed before how brown his eyes are?

"Don't go." It's out before she even processes that she's going to speak. It's ironic that it's only now, when she's threatened with the loss of Booth's partnership _(friendship, companionship, love)_, that she begins to think with her heart.

"I'll be reassigned," he says. His hand twitches again and she wants _(needs)_ him to reach for her now, now that she's finally _(popped her heart into overdrive)_ set logic aside.

"I don't care."

 

**

 

When she was an undergraduate, she took a course in twentieth century Irish literature. She found Yeats' poetry extremely profound. Even years after she obtained her degree, she would pull out her well-worn _(tattered)_ copy of his poems whenever she needed perspective.

_Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold_

She hears this line in her head _(much too)_ often, especially after Booth's pretty speech about the two of them being the center. Things will change; _they_ will change.

When he died, the only words she spoke for nearly two days belonged to a long-dead Irish poet.

 

**

 

His hand _(finally)_ reaches across the table and covers hers. Her fingers twitch, but turning her hand over and grasping his palm against hers seems too presumptuous. She can't look away from his eyes.

"Bones, I either go to St. Louis or I end up riding a desk for the rest of my career with the FBI," he says, leaning forward across the table, his tie precariously close to the syrup still covering his plate. "You know that I can't do that."

She pulls her hand away from his, clenches her _(cold, so cold)_ fingers together in her lap. She twirls her mother's ring _(around and around and around)_ on her finger. She looks down at her coffee and her voice is quiet _(timid)_ when she speaks.

"Not even for me?"

 

**

 

There aren't many rules Booth wouldn't break for her. She knows, for a fact, that he stole _(her mother's earring)_ evidence from a crime scene and _(all but lied on the stand)_ implicated that she could be a killer so that her father could get away with murder.

He's _(broken out of the hospital)_ had himself discharged against medical advice so that he could save her and told her to _(sail into the sunset with someone who wasn't him)_ live large.

She knows he'd do anything in his power to keep her safe and happy.

She knows _wrong_.

 

**

 

He's still leaning across the table, but she's leaning back, trying to _(get away from him)_ maximize her personal space.

"Not this time, Temperance," he finally says, and she can hear the _(pain and heartbreak)_ regret in his voice. "I can't."

She's already halfway to the door before he's even finished speaking. She won't let him see her cry. _(Not this time, Seeley, not this time.)_

 

**

 

Once upon a time, a _(charming)_ FBI agent met a _(somewhat cantankerous)_ forensic anthropologist and begged for her help to give the dead a voice.

Theirs was a tempestuous relationship, but they _(eventually)_ became friends and then partners _(in nearly every sense of the word)_. She was important to him. He was important to her.

He promised her he'd never betray her.

And then he did.

_(She never forgave him.)_

 

**

**end**


End file.
